


The Ninety-eighth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [98]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-04
Updated: 1999-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Ninety-eighth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Ninety-eighth Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel and its universe don't belong to me or to those who wrote the tidbits. So, the usual "no  
infringement, no money being made" applies.  


* * *

Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1  
(Reference Tidbit File #96, tidbit #6--Your Choice questions) 

Author's Note: Here are my answers and thanks to Sue [Marmoset] for the idea of making it an almost first time...I love to steal good stuff... 

"Hey, Jim. Do you mind if we take a little quiz?" 

"A little quiz? Like, sense testing or something?" 

"Well, not exactly. More like a...um, er, <mumble-mumble>" 

"COMPATIBILITY TEST? DID YOU SAY COMPATIBILITY TEST?" 

"Damn, forgot your hearing. And yes, compatibility quiz. I mean, we live together, it would be nice to see if we're compatible, dontcha think?" 

"Oh, sure. Three years, and _now_ he wants to see if we're compatible. Okay, but don't blame me if it ends up saying you belong with a Barbary ape named Larry." 

"And why not? The only thing they'd be getting wrong is the name." 

"Pushing your luck. Now shoot." 

"Okay, first question: What would you do if I grew a moustache?" 

"Um. You - moustache. Nope, don't see it. Go to the next one." 

"Okay, this one refers to changing hairstyles so I'll go with: What would you do if I cut my hair?" 

"Celebrate? Send up flares? No more long hair in the drain? Cool. And Sandburg? Don't even think about it." 

"Well, that qualified as a mixed message. Okay, the next one: Um, this one is about habits so I'll redo it a bit...what house rule that I break really bothers you?" 

"Easy. All of them. You never followed 'em, broke 'em all within your first twenty minutes here. Why do you think I revised them?" 

"You revised them? Did I get a copy of the revisions?" 

"No. I boiled them all down to one: Let Sandburg do whatever the hell he wants ~ it's easier." 

"I like that rule. Very cool. Okay, next: Oh. Well. With this one? Just remember, _I_ didn't write it. What nervous habit of mine do you find most endearing?" 

"Endearing? You? Well, it is kinda nice when you get to working and scribbling and you don't notice anything, I mean, the world could be coming to a loud end and you wouldn't know it, but just let me groan, or mutter, and BAM! You're right there." 

Blue eyes blinked back, then crinkled in a smile. 

"Cool. Okay, next: Um, another hair question so let me make a change...hair back or loose?" 

"Loose. You look older. When it's back, I feel like I'm robbing the cradle." 

"Uh, Jim? Robbing the cradle of what?" 

"What's the next question?" 

"Yes, well...how would you describe the color of my eyes?" 

"Blue. And green. But mostly blue. Really blue. Sometimes dark, raging blue, sometimes the palest blue, kind of misty." 

Silence. 

Silence. 

"Uh, Sandburg? I say something wrong?" 

"So I have blue eyes?" 

"Yeah. Blue." 

"Okaaa-ay. Next: Uh, this one is about ~ leaving, so I'll reword....what would you do if I moved out?" 

"MOVE OUT! NO WAY. I am not packing all this stuff up....not three fucking years worth. Nope. Too hard. You stay put." 

"Right. Next: This is tricky...okay, this is doable. Um, Jim? How would you propose marriage to the right person?" 

Sentinel frowns... 

"Well, I kind of like the traditional thing, you know? And maybe I'd hide the engagement bracelet, I mean, er, ring...in something. Surprise yo...her. You know?" 

"Bracelet?" 

"Ring. Slip of the tongue." 

"And the words?" 

(How would Jim propose? Go to Part Two.) 

allison  


* * *

Tidbit #2  
(Continues previous tidbit)  
Your Choice - Part two 

"Well, I guess I'd just...come right out with it. Just ask." 

"Uh, huh. I see. Okay, next: How does your spo...uh, do I help you the most?" 

"Nobody does reports better than you." 

"Gee, thanks. I'm all warm and fuzzy over here." 

"Good. Wouldn't want you to think I don't appreciate you." 

"Right. Next: How has your spous....um, how have I made you a better person?" 

"Well, my reports _are_ the talk of the station. I'm envied. Other detectives are actually jealous." 

A pillow is thrown across the room, landing squarely on Jim's face. 

"So, what about my questions for you? Don't I get to find out about this compatibility thing?" 

"Jim, _you_ should be living with Larry. You'd get along fine." 

"I do. Only his name is Sandburg. Now hand me that magazine." 

Said magazine whizzed through the air to be deftly caught by Jim. 

"COSMOPOLITAN? Uh, Chief? Is there something you'd like to share?" 

"Yeah. I like the little teddy number on page 27. Thinking of getting me one. Satin, slinky, shows off my legs." 

"Asshole." 

"Connor gave it to me. Thought we'd like the quiz. She sorta thinks, well, that we are, you know." 

"Figures. Aussie. No brains. Okay, first question: Um, maybe...we should go to the second question." 

"No fair. All the questions. Just like I asked you." 

"Okay, but you're not going to like it. What do I taste like?" 

"Spicy. Tangy. Like a Margarita on the rocks, but _with_ salt." 

Blue eyes blinking. 

"Yes, well. Next: Favorite part of my ~ um, body." 

"Receding hairline." 

"I am _not_ going bald." 

"Not as long as I'm here. You can always have some of mine. Or a transplant from your arms." 

Jim threw the pillow back. 

"Next: My greatest attribute." 

"Your receding hairline. Takes away the subtle air of being Superman. He'd never have a receding hairline." 

Another pillow followed, knocking Blair off the couch. "Anything in that quiz about spousal abuse?" 

"You started it. And _Spousal_?" 

"Just give me the next question before the paramedics arrive." 

"Next: Okay, little revision...what's your least favorite house rule?" 

"None now. I rule supreme. And if you throw _that_ pillow, you'll find syrup in your bed." 

"Right. Next: I don't get this one, so just go with it ...What's your favorite thing to do to me?" 

"Yank your chain. You are _so_ easy." 

<I'll yank your chain, just wait and see>

"Jim? What did you just say?" 

"Nothing. Next: This is about old girlfriends. So, did any of my old girlfriends ever scare you?" 

"Pass. No, wait. You have such bad taste...they were all scary. Brrrrr. Man, you really need to re-examine your life." 

"Thanks, Chief. I just love the support. Next: What's my strongest characteristic?" 

"Your reports. Don't know how you do it. All that tiring detective work and _still_ you manage to turn in these fucking brilliant reports. So concise, so educational, so ~deductive." 

"I'm above throwing pillows. I am superior. Next: What's my greatest, um, er....weakness?" 

"Fear." 

"We're not getting into that again, are we?" 

"Guess not. But you _do_ need to make friends with your fears." 

"Next: What have you learned from me?" 

"Easy. The world is a complex place and you can't just observe. You've got to get inside it and live it. I've also learned what a home really is. _And_ I'm getting pretty good at your repression technique too. Just yesterday, I repressed the fact that _I_ was the one who ate your double-bacon cheese Wonderburger." 

Much clearing of throat from the other couch. 

"Right. Next: Do you believe you're the only husba...uh, quick revision here...do you believe you're the only guide for me?" 

"Who else would have you?" 

"Good point. So the answer is yes. You gonna score this?" 

"Sure. Throw it back." 

Magazine whizzes back across the room. 

"Feel free to use your toes, Darwin." 

"I may need to...man, we're off the charts. According to this, our score is...well, according to this, here, let me read it: 

'You two were obviously fated to be together. You are the yin and yang of each other. The light and dark, the night and the day. You can not be whole one without the other. One soul inhabiting two bodies, but coming together in love.'" 

"So no Larry." 

"Would seem not." 

"Rubbish." 

"Yeah, rubbish. Women and their quizzes." 

"Silly." 

"Silly." 

Silence. 

Silence. 

"Uh, Jim? I have a slight confession." 

"um?" 

"Well...maybe later." 

allison  


* * *

Tidbit #3  
(Continues tidbit #2)  
ObSenad: Continuing from Blair's aborted confession: 

Dinner was long over, the dishes done. It was time to relax and with no game worth watching and nothing on cable, they'd both chosen to read. 

It was quiet, with only the occasional turning of pages to indicate life existed in the loft. Jim had turned on the fireplace before they'd both settled in with their respective books and it now gave off a comforting warmth and a homey air to the surprisingly domestic scene. 

Jim was really into the quiet, even if he didn't have a clue what the hell he was reading, when Sandburg gave a gentle clearing of his throat and put his book down. 

"Jim?" 

The older man didn't look up, apparently engrossed in what he wasn't reading. 

"Uh, Jim? I think now is the right time for that confession." 

"Let me guess. You're now ashamed of the cracks about my receding hairline." 

"A rose is a rose, Jim and you _do_ have a receding hairline. But on you, it looks good." 

"Oh. Okay, so what's the confession?" 

"Well, not to give Cosmopolitan too much credit or anything, but I think they were spot on." 

"Spot on? You mean the questions?" 

"No, I mean their interpretations of our answers." 

Silence. 

Jim finally closed the book, leaned forward and set it on the coffee table. 

"Our answers?" 

"Shit. You're not going to make this easy, are you?" 

He smiled at his guide. "Who me? Mr. Fear Based, Mr. Repressed Throwback to a Pre-civilized Culture?" 

"I never said you were a _Repressed_ Throwback, just a throwback. And you're not going to make it easy, are you?" 

Jim stood, smiled down at Blair and said, "Just one second, let me do something first before this great confession, okay?" 

"Fine. Whatever," Blair answered, somewhat dejectedly. 

Jim ran upstairs, and the sound of rummaging could be heard. Finally he returned to stand over his guide. 

"Here." 

He thrust out a long, narrow gift box. 

With a frown, Blair took it and turned in it several directions, then shook it. 

"It's not a bomb, just open it for crying out loud." 

With a look of distrust, his eyes narrowing, Blair lifted the lid and removed a black jewelers box. 

"Uh, Jim? What is this..." 

"I'm making it easy on you. Open it." 

Blair popped the lid and nestled inside was a thick linked gold I.D. bracelet. Blair's initials have been engraved on the plate and on each side of the plate is a small animal. On the left side, a gold leaping jungle cat, and on the right, a howling wolf. 

"Read the back." 

With shaking fingers, Blair gently turned the bracelet over and read the inscription. 

"Soulmates forever - J/B" 

"Dear God." 

Jim waited, praying he hadn't misread the signals _or_ Blair's confession. After a moment, Blair opened the clasp, slipped the bracelet on his wrist, and closed the clasp. He looked up, a smile of wonderment on his face. 

"Perfect fit." 

Jim nodded contentedly and sat down next to his mate. 

"Now about that confession?" 

"Oh, yeah. You should know something. I think I'm a bottom." 

allison  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

Author's note: allison wrote: And just how many blowjobs does Jim have to do for all the gun droppings? Because at the rate of each PBOTW _and_ each gun dropping, he'll be _blowing_ Blair well into the year 2001. 

Hey, that would make a neat story problem: 

"Jim has to give Blair a blowjob and a half for every time he drops his gun and three and a quarter blowjobs for every criminal he screws. If Jim drops his gun eight times per episode and screws four criminals, and it takes fifteen minutes for each blowjob, how many blowjobs would Blair be getting and how long would it take? Round your answer to the nearest blowjob." 

Now that's the way to teach math and keep kids in school. 

Tex  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

WARNING: liberal use of the word "boobs". Do not read any further if the word "boobs" offends you. Because I use the word "boobs" in this ObSenad. And I also say "blowjob". I hope that's not a problem. 

Blair settled down on the couch with a contented sigh. After a hard day of police work, anthropology, protests, teaching, tutoring, charity work at the soup kitchen, being kidnapped by serial killers, and the occasional academic disgrace, he was looking forward to a nice, quiet evening in front of the TV. 

He picked up the remote and clicked the set on. 

"Next on UPN: Boobwatch. Buxom young females and over-the-hill ex-male heartthrobs rescue people and have emotional moments. This week, David Hasslehoff misplaces his toupee and forgets to suck in his gut." 

Blair made a face. "God, that's horrible!" He clicked the remote. 

"Next on UPN: Boobwatch. Buxom young females and over-the-hill ex-male heartthrobs rescue people and have emotional moments. This week, the crew is shipwrecked and forced to use Pamela Anderson's implants as flotation devices." 

"That's weird." Blair changed the channel. 

"Next on UPN: Boobwatch. Buxom young females and over-the-hill ex-male heartthrobs rescue people and have emotional moments. This week, Carmen Elektra marries a rich, famous basketball player for the sake of her dying career." 

"Okay, keep it together, Sandburg," Blair muttered nervously. "Channel 34 is HBO. Try that." 

_Click_

"Next on UPN..." 

Blair's heart pounded and his hands shook as he groped for the "off" button. _Click_

"Next on UPN..." 

Blair dropped the remote and pressed both hands to his ears. "What's happening???" 

"WELCOME TO HELL, BLAIR SANDBURG!" 

His gorgeous baby blue eyes flew open and he stared wildly around the room. "What-who said that?" 

"WHO I AM IS UNIMPORTANT. I HAVE COME TO WARN YOU OF THE ETERNITY OF HELL THAT AWAITS YOU IF YOU DO NOT CHANGE YOUR SINFUL WAYS." 

"What do you want? Hell? I've never done anything bad!" 

"CAVORTING, FLIRTING, SIMPERING WITH ALL THOSE BOTW WHILE THROWING YOUR ONE TRUE LOVE ALL THOSE LONGING GLANCES! ETERNAL UPN PROGRAMMING IS YOUR FATE UNLESS YOU REPENT!" 

Blair trembled. "What should I do?" 

"GO UPSTAIRS AND GIVE JIM ONE BLOWJOB FOR EVERY TIME YOU'VE FLIRTED WITH A BOTW SINCE THIS SERIES BEGAN, TWO FOR EVERY TIME YOU WERE EVEN IN THE SAME ROOM AS CASSIE, AND TEN FOR THAT DISGUSTING DISPLAY WITH MEGAN!" 

"That's a lot of blowjobs." 

"REPENT, SINNER! OR THY AFTERLIFE SHALL BE UPN." 

Boobwatch disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

Blair tossed the remote down and sprinted up the stairs and, in one leap, landed on Jim's bed and started burrowing under the covers, tearing at Jim's boxers. 

Jim sat halfway up before being shoved down again. "Sandburg, what-" 

"Guttamkuptyoo!" 

Jim looked under the covers. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Chief." 

Blair removed the object that was muffling his words and tried again. "I said, gotta make it up to you! Cassie, Megan, Sam, what's-her-face from Iceman-it was all a mistake, a horrible mistake! I love you, Jim! I love you!" He ducked back under the covers. 

**-112 BLOWJOBS LATER-**

Blair crawled out from under the covers with a smug grin. "That's it. I did it. I avoided hell and finally got you in bed. Jim? Jim?" 

Jim stared up at the ceiling with glazed eyes. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm." 

Blair frowned. "Hey, wait a minute! I wasn't the only one who did the flirty-simpery thing! Veronica, Lila, that chick from Inside Man-" 

A slow, evil smile spread across his slightly stretched lips. "Hey Jim, you looked wiped out, man. Why don't you take a shower and go watch some TV. The remote's on the couch." 

THE END 

Tex  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

"Just ask the list, Chief. They should now." 

"I feel like a dork asking them. It just seems like a really lame question." Blair shook his head, looking at his computer screen, trying to clean out his over full mailbox. 

The loft fell quiet for a while again, when suddenly Jim heard a muttered "yes" come from the floor in front of the television. 

"What?" 

"Somebody was asking about problems with Outlook Express, probably a week ago. God, I can't even keep on top of this shit on digest." 

Jim waited, nodding his head, wondering if Blair was going to finish. "Sandburg. What are you talking about?" 

The curly head bounced and blue eyes peered at him over the coffee table. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Somebody mentioned Outlook Express with IE5, and I have to figure out how to get my POP3 account working on the new laptop." Blair started clicking away, typing up a quick Obwatch. 

Jim just kinda kept nodding, rolling his eyes when his younger lover forgot the older man had no idea what he was talking about. "Okay, whatever. I could have sworn that laptop was only going to be used for school stuff, Chief." 

"Huh?" came the absent rejoinder. 

Barbara G.  


* * *

Tidbit #7 

(Re: Fred Phelps and his group being detained at Canadian customs for several hours.) 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Phelps, but you and your posse have been detained for importing dipshits into Canada. From the looks of you, you're clearly over the legal asshole limit, too. Sorry, but we'll be deporting you immediately to Iran. Have a nice day and watch out for the Taliban.  <whisper> They're religious fanatics." 

Merrily humming "O Canada", 

Tex 

* * *

Tidbit #8 

(Re: how many blowjobs does Jim owe Blair; see tidbit #4, this file) 

Oooo, Ooo, teacher! (waving hand wildly) I know! I know! 

1.5 X 8 = 12 and 3.25 X 4 = 13 equals 25 blowjobs total. 

25 blowjobs times 15 minutes = 375 minutes = 6 hours and 15 minutes. 

If I get it right do I get to watch!? 

Regina 

* * *

End The Ninety-eighth Sentinel Tidbits File.

 


End file.
